Maya
by Mariele
Summary: An AU told in two timelines, the first in which Regina makes a mistake when casting the curse and gets sent to our world as a baby with Emma. The second in which Emma turns to the dark side after learning to use her magic, and only one person really knows how to save her.


A/N: Maya in the title does not refer to a person's name, but to the sanskrit meaning "the belief that a symbol of a thing is the same as the thing itself", which will be a key element in this story.

Also this is extremely A/U. It is set in an alternate past where Regina went to our world at the same time as Emma after casting the curse. It's also set in the future, right after Cora is gone, and Neal is back in Storybrooke. The little Emma and Regina will not change any canon of the show.

Also also, I don't want to talk about tonight's episode. Everything hurts.

Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon a Time. I don't even own the computer I'm writing this on.

One

(1990)

A chill swept through New York City, winding around tall buildings and twisting through alleyways. It picked up some leaves to carry along and scattered sections of the newspaper apart. Most of the people caught in the whirlwind seemed completely unaffected, eyes trained downward, almost as if fascinated by the sight of their own two feet moving themselves forward. Hands in their pockets, coats buttoned all the way to the collar, a little wind would not deter them from their destinations. Regina Davis, however, was another story.

She had been stumbling and dodging legs much longer than her own, trying desperately to maintain her sweaty grasp on her mother's hand. Her tiny feet would occasionally step into an icy puddle, the remnants of winter melting away in the street, causing cold water to splash in her face and her ever increasing frustration to grow. Trench coats flopped in her face and briefcases knocked against her shoulder and finally, she just couldn't take it anymore.

"Mommy! Stop!" she shrieked, pulling her mother's hand toward her mouth and biting down hard. Her own hand was freed and she stepped back, huffing and red-faced, narrowing her eyes at her mother.

Diane returned her 6-year-old daughter's black eyes with ones nearly filled with tears. She knew it wasn't good to cry in front of her young child, but she'd tried being brave for so long. There was something dark in her daughter, in the way she behaved and the stories she told her parents. What Diane had originally praised as an active imagination, had eventually turned into something that terrified her. Constant talk of faraway lands and dragons and magic turned into evil and killing people because they hurt you and once "Mommy, is your heart in your chest or is it inside your jewelry box"? She didn't understand how such a young child got those ideas, and it left her feeling unsettled and on edge around her, which led her to an even worse feeling; regret that she'd ever adopted the girl in the first place. That, of course, led to guilt which caused her to be overprotective and indulgent of Regina's every whim. She lowered herself down to her daughter's level, never breaking eye contact. It was a technique she had learned at one of the many, many therapy sessions she'd attended since Regina came into her life.

"What's the matter, Sweetheart?" she managed evenly.

"You're going too fast!" Regina stamped her foot hard against the pavement.

Diane held out her hand toward Regina, exposing the redness of her knuckles and tiny, white teeth marks. The little girl's eyes widened in horror when she saw them. Her breathing slowed and her heart rate began to return to normal. This was always the hardest part; coming down from her tantrum and realizing what she'd done. The guilt was more than her young mind could process. So, she did the only thing she knew to do…she ran.

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Emma dropped to her knees and shimmied underneath Bobby Newman's bed. He was a quiet, well-behaved boy who had never had to be punished once in the five years he'd lived in the children's residential home on Eighth Avenue in New York. His bed never had to be searched, whereas Emma's did on a weekly basis, as did her duffel bag with the three outfits and two pairs of shoes she owned.

She reached up into her perfect hiding spot in the hole on the underside of Bobby's mattress. After feeling around a bit, she pulled out the spare key to the downstairs storage closet. Behind it's door lay an item quite precious to her and she planned to get it back while everyone was distracted with all the foster parent adoption day nonsense.

Emma tucked the key into her sock and smoothed the wrinkles in the dress she has borrowed for the day. It was pale green with lacey sleeves and white ruffles at the bottom. It itched her pale skin and made playing kickball in the street with the boys more difficult, but Miss Hannah said it would make a family want to adopt her.

Except, Emma didn't want to be adopted. She wanted her own family. Her real family. And she was going to find them. Today.

She bounded down the stairs, smiling politely at all the strange faces. When she reached the foot of the stairs, an arm swooped down at her and ruffled her unruly, blonde curls.

"Hey, Little Chick," an older girl of fifteen spouted her usual affectionate name for Emma, "have you heard of a hairbrush?"

"Uh, yeah, have you heard of mouthwash?" she mustered up all the sass her 6-year-old body could manage.

"Nice one!" the girl high-fived her, "I've taught you so well."

"Sophie, have you seen Miss Hannah?"

"I think she's in her office talking with a family."

"Okay," Emma knew this was her chance, "Hey Soph? I love you."

Sophie rolled her eyes, but they sparkled with joy, "I love you too, weirdo."

Emma's stomach ached a bit at the realization that she may never see Sophie again. The girl had been the closest thing she'd ever had to a friend or a family. She had always been there for Emma, perhaps the only consistency she'd had in her three years at the center.

Emma crouched behind a large potted plant, waiting until the hallway was relatively empty. She darted toward the storage closet, slipping the key in with ease. Once inside, she quickly rummaged through its contents, searching for her most prized possession. She tossed aside old, winter coats with missing buttons, teddy bears ripping apart at the seams, and shoes with holes in the toes. Time was of the essence and getting caught when she was finally on the brink of escape was not an option.

"Where is it?" she whispered furiously, wondering how she had allowed it out of her sight in the first place. The stupid cook had taken it from her and locked it away after she caught Emma taking extra loaves of bread from the dinner table. But they hadn't been for her; she had tossed the loaves out her window to the poor homeless man who lived in the park across the street. She learned that day that it was pointless to try to be good.

Finally she saw it, peeking out from behind a pile of socks. Her baby blanket. She lifted in carefully, as if it were made of glass, and cradled it in her arms. Her fingers traced lightly over her name that had been neatly crocheted by hand. Sophie once told her that whoever made that blanket for her must have truly loved her. So, Emma intended on finding out exactly who that was.

Stuffing the blanket under her dress, she quietly peeked through the crack in the door. When the coast was clear, she dashed to the window in the bathroom near the front door. It was always kept unlocked during the day because Miss Hannah said it was too stuffy. She grabbed her duffle bag from where she had stashed it this morning under the sink. She hoisted herself up on the back of the toilet, pushed the window screen open and crawled out. Landing with a thud on a pile of garbage bags, Emma threw her head back and groaned before looking around and realizing she was alone. No one had seen her. She stood up, collected her things, and smiled.

And then she ran.

(2014)

Emma rocked back and forth in her bar stool, a spoon dangling in air before her. She willed it to go left, she willed it to go right, and it did, a tiny trail of sparkling white fog following closely behind. She dropped her head into her hand, the spoon collapsing to the counter. What use were these simple parlor tricks when there were people like herself out there who could do so much more?

It had been a month since Cora had disappeared again, two months since Neal came to Storybrooke, and three months since she learned she had the ability to do magic. It had only been a week since her parents found a way back to the Enchanted Forest, and left with several others to see if it was realistic for all of them to move back together. Emma had stayed behind with Henry, much to his chagrin, and Neal who insisted on being there to protect them. From what, she wasn't sure. The true evil came from the Enchanted Forest from what she knew. Although things had noticeably calmed down, Emma just grew more restless. She had seen too much. She had seen the true dark side of magic, and the destructive and deadly possibilities it created within this world. But she had also seen what her own magic could do – it had saved her own life, her mother's, her son's, and several others when she needed it to. If only she could figure out how to make it work whenever she wanted it to.

She hadn't been quite able to figure out what did make it work in those instances. It seemed like love was a very strong possibility, as she'd used it to save her loved ones when someone was trying to harm them. But there had been other times, too, times when magic would have really come in handy, and yet she just couldn't will it to work. Emma didn't care for the unpredictability of it all. She knew if it really came down to it, Neal wouldn't be able to truly protect her or Henry without magic, and he refused to use it himself. She just needed to learn to control it herself, and she could keep her family safe.

There was another person who had stayed behind in Storybrooke who might be able to help her. Regina. The Evil Queen. Regina. Emma wasn't sure how to think of the woman; she'd seen so many different sides of her over the past months. She had seen her destroy, and she had seen her save, and she knew Regina had a hand in Cora's disappearance, though Emma wasn't sure where she went or how exactly. She had seen her put her own life on the line several times in order to save Henry, which made Emma believe maybe there was a chance the two women could find some common ground. But they had been rivals for the so long. Hell, Regina had tried to put her into an eternal sleep. They screamed at each other, and threw each other around without a single shred of remorse. How was Emma supposed to ask a woman like that for help?

Emma tipped back the last of her drink, and left the bar, walking out into the crisp autumn air. She reluctantly began on her path toward the white mansion where Regina still resided. It couldn't hurt to ask, she figured, and surely after all they'd been through, their relationship couldn't get much worse.

Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she had reached the gate to Regina's home. She pushed it open and strode through with determination. She was running on pure adrenaline now. She knocked solidly three times, stepped back, and braced herself.

The door opened suddenly, wobbling a bit under the grip of the woman behind it, who had poked just her head out, "Emma. What are you doing here?"

Emma sniffed a little and cocked her head to the side, "Are you drunk?"

"No."

"Well you're definitely drinking alcohol. I can smell it. And you called me Emma. You never call me Emma."

"Then certainly you can see that I'm busy, so off you go," Regina started to close the door, but Emma wedged her boot in between the small opening.

"Do you have someone else here?"

"No."

"Then what exactly am I interrupting?"

Regina sighed. Emma's relentlessness had always annoyed her, and today it was no different. Whatever the subject or nature of their battle, Emma never let up, never gave in. While it was refreshing to spar with someone of her own caliber, it was not enjoyable to lose, and with Emma, she sometimes did.

"So can I come in?"

"No."

Emma huffed, "Come on, Regina, it's cold out here."

"Then go home and put on a sweatshirt."

"Fine. I thought we could at least be comfortable having this conversation, but if you want to stand out here in the cold that's fine by me," Emma's eyes narrowed, preparing herself for battle, "I need your help."

Regina just laughed.

"I'm serious." Emma looked her right in the eye, hoping to gain some courage by pretending she didn't fear this conversation, "I need to learn how to use my magic better."

"Absolutely not. Also, that was not proper grammar."

"Well don't you want to know why?"

"I don't care why. Whatever problem you're having, magic is not the answer," Regina said with surprisingly little malice in her voice.

"I need to be able to protect my family, Regina. Which includes Henry. And you know as well as I do that the only surefire way to protect against anything is magic," Emma reasoned.

"Henry already takes issue with my using magic, Ms. Swan, what makes you think he'll approve of your using it?" Emma deduced that Regina must be sobering up as she heard the familiar name she always used for Emma when trying to prove her superiority.

"Because my magic is the good kind."

Regina laughed again, this time a full-blown cackle, tossing her head back and crossing her arms, "Oh that is rich. So typical of a Charming. How foolish are you, Ms. Swan, to believe after all you've seen that anything could be black and white? Magic is not good or bad because of the magic, it's because of the person who creates it and uses it."

Emma opened her mouth to reply, but Regina cut her off, walking toward Emma who was now backing away a bit "…and let me guess. You're a 'good' guy so therefore your magic will be good as well. That's not how it works! It's easy to slip up and become the very evil you thought you were fighting against."

Regina's voice faltered a bit and Emma felt a pang of something in her chest. They were so close to having a real conversation, but yet still so far.

"Regina…" Emma wanted to say something nice in this moment, but her voice failed her.

"Save it. If a time comes when Henry requires our protection we will figure something else out, but neither of us will be using magic. Are we clear?" Regina leaned in to Emma's face so close she could feel her hot breath on her cheek.

"Well what about the rest of my family," Emma pushed, "How will I protect them?"

"Oh you mean your new, little boyfriend and the idiots you have for parents? I don't see why any of that concerns me."

"He's not my boyfriend, we've got a lot to sort out first. I'm letting him get to know Henry, he's his son. He deserves that. I'm not even sure how I feel about him anymore."

"I have no idea why you're defending your dating life to me, Ms. Swan, but I can assure you, I don't care. This conversation is done. Goodnight," Regina went to close the door, but just to further her annoyance, Emma caught it again.

"If you won't teach me, I'll find someone else who will," Emma said through gritted teeth.

"Where? The only one left who has any talent is Gold and he's not going to help you without your paying a steep price which I promise you won't be worth it. Everyone else left in Storybrooke couldn't pull a bunny out of a hat with their magic."

"Then I'll go somewhere else. I'll bet someone in the Enchanted Forest would be more than willing to teach me," Emma turned on her heels and stormed off, but she only made it to the steps before a hand grabbed her arm and spun her around.

"Don't," Regina released her grip a little, realizing the contact made her feel uncomfortable, "Emma, I'm telling you, you will regret this."

"Why do you care?" Emma jerked her arm away, "We apparently still can't have a civil conversation about anything. I thought that my coming here tonight would be a new beginning for us. I thought maybe we could be, I don't know, allies or something and between both of our magic we'd be able to protect Henry together. I guess I was wrong."

"Fine, you know what? I don't care. Ruin your life! It'll make it that much sweeter when I get to say 'I told you so'".

Regina slammed the front door and Emma slammed the front gate right back.

(1990)

Regina had been running for what seemed like hours. Every time she checked over her shoulder, the sight of her mother chasing after her grew farther away. She could no longer hear her voice desperately calling her name. Just as she turned her head forward again, a blonde and green blur came speeding toward her. Before she could stop or move out of the way, they collided. Regina landed on the pavement with a thud next to the colorful heap she now realized was a girl about her age.

"I'm sorry!" Regina crawled toward the girl and poked at her, "are you okay?"

The girl sat up with a jolt. She stood and brushed herself off, mumbling "fine" and began to walk away. Regina followed the girl across the street, taking in the sight of her mud-stained dress and the holes in her socks.

"I'm Regina," she offered a little smile which the other girl did not return.

"Emma."

"Where are you going, Emma?" Regina asked, nearly skipping to keep up with her pace.

"I'm going to find my parents," Emma still hadn't made eye contact of any kind.

"I'm running away from mine."

That caught Emma's attention. To have your own parents, Emma thought, must be the greatest feeling in the entire world. Why would anyone want to run from that?

"Come with me," Emma grabbed the girl's hand and pulled her into a tiny park area with swings and a pond and lots of trees. The girls ducked behind a bush and Emma finally got a good look at Regina.

"Wow," Emma reached a hand out to feel the fabric of Regina's dress. It was a deep, dark crimson and it felt so soft on Emma's fingertips. She noticed Regina wearing a long black coat as well and white, lacey tights with the shiniest black shoes she had ever seen, "What is your dress made out of?"

Regina giggled, "It's called velvet."

"Velvet," Emma dragged out every letter in the word, lifting her fingers to the perfect rings of soft, brown curls that hung just below Regina's shoulders, "You look like a doll."

"It's just these clothes mother makes me wear," Regina sighed and Emma felt a pang of jealousy course through her chest.

"I'd love to have a mother to make me look beautiful," Emma stared at the ground.

"Come home with me! I bet all you need is a bath and you can wear some of my clothes."

"But I thought you were running away from home,"

"I was but I really should get back before dark," Regina shrugged, innocently "come on, I'll sneak you in and sneak you back out in the morning before my parents know you're there."

Emma grinned. She admired this girl's spirit. She hadn't met anyone with an affinity for scheming quite like her own.

"Okay, let's do it!"

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If you're confused right now, then you're right where I want you. Review if you like, and stay tuned for chapter 2!


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